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"Can't catch me!" Leslie said. Her being sixteen to his
twenty-eight was bad enough; these occasional regressions into
childhood always brought Rick a frisson of guilt. He chased her
across his snow-covered fields, though, and caught her easily
enough.
It was a Saturday of freedom. They got only a scant hour on
weekdays, between his getting home from the machine shop and
Leslie going home for supper. Time too short for more than
kissing and petting. On Saturdays he got out at eleven. They
could play and talk -- and plan. Time to waste, but time that
they could waste together.
Their kisses were interrupted by her laughter and his need to
breathe. She wrestled playfully until he had his arms around her
and her tight butt squashed against his leg.
"Can too catch you," Rick said. "You're mine now."
"Yes, Rick, all yours. Hold me, make me yours, and I'll never
run away from you again."
"No, sweetheart. The chase is half the fun. And, for moving
four months too soon, the state would put me in prison for much
more than four years. If you are to be mine and I am to be yours
on any more than a spiritual plane, we have to wait until you are
seventeen."
"But only that long," she said. "Tell me we'll be together
then."
"We'll be together then, and in between times, as well. Just
not as together as we would like. You can keep fleeing me; I
can keep chasing you. But you can be chased only so long as you
remain chaste."
"Pthlibit!"
"I don't hide my faults from you, sweetheart," he said. "I'm
an inveterate punster."
"With a show-off vocabulary." She turned to stick her tongue
out at him. He kissed it, and their kiss was long and deep.
"But I like your talk. Since I can't have anything else for
four long months, tell me a story."
He turned her so that he could kiss the back of her ear before
straightening and slipping his hand under her down jacket to hold
her breast. "A story the lady wants," he said over the top of
her head. "A story the lady shall have."
We might anticipate the time after your
seventeenth birthday. But the time in between won't have been
wasted from my perspective. I'll have talked with Leslie and
held her close.
I'll have kissed her in ways and places that I haven't done
yet. I'll have seen her in this field and in my yard. I'll
have shown her the new foal. Daffodil will have her foal well
before May, perhaps this month.
And as Leslie is a great friend of Daffodil's who has ridden
her many times and petted her previous foals, a new foal of
Daffodil's will have been one more reason for Leslie to visit.
And we will have had many reasons to spend time in the barn.
Maybe, just perhaps, Leslie and I will have watched
Daffodil's foal from the hayloft. Nobody will have been able to
interrupt us when we are up there without making a huge clatter
first. In the hayloft, she won't have been able to hide from my
kisses and my hugs. Or we might have decided to watch from an
upstairs window. There, Leslie will have been able to undress
without freezing. And I'll have been privileged to see all of
her beauty at one time. Naked in the cold weather, Leslie won't
have been able to flee from the house.
And I'll have hugged my love, and seen my love. And my
desire for Leslie will have grown. And something else will have
grown, too -- not permanently, but repeatedly. And I'll have
kissed my dearest, kissed her mouth to mouth, and felt the
electric sweetness of her tongue; I'll have kissed her ears and
have felt her wiggle her hips so cutely against my hardness in
her attempts to escape, that I'll have wanted -- wanted
desperately -- to drive my hardness into that wiggle. But I
won't have done so. I'll merely have added that desire to so
many others, waiting the right time.
And that will have taken us only into the last, lingering,
death of winter, not the birth of spring.
She squirmed around in his arms to kiss him. They hugged
until he turned his back to adjust his stiffness within his
trousers. He held her with her back to his front again, and
blew across her hair.
"Somehow," she said, "I suspect that you have something
planned for the spring."
"In the spring," he said. "The mares will come into heat.
Now Daffodil will have a well-deserved rest next year, but I
plan to breed Delilah... and Dafney."
"Is she old enough?"
"She's a mare, sweetheart. She is old enough, or will be by
then. Horses grow up fast. Remember when she was a baby foal.
You came over to see her, and it was the first time that we
really talked."
"You thought I was a baby, too."
"You were a delightful child, hardly a baby, and a beauty even
then. But you didn't have these." He took a few minutes to
reach back under her jacket to play with her breasts through
shirt and bra. "I am going to show you so much in the next four
months. Anyway, my Leslie wanted a story."
My Leslie is pure quicksilver. I'll chase her again and
again; I'll catch her again and again; I'll hold her like this
again and again. But however tight I'll hold her, I'll never
completely possess her. So I'll need a new bait to trap her, a
new bait every time she flees. Maybe a new caress when I run
her down, maybe a new place to kiss her, maybe a new sight out
in my barnyard.
So I'll show her so many things. I'll show her what the
books say about women like herself and men like me. I'll show
her how the animals handle passions like ours. For we are
animals, too, but animals with a stronger will. We can
anticipate the future; we can hold ourselves back, hard as I
find it, to make the future last.
But I'll show my love the ways of the animals. I'll bring in
a stallion some Saturday when Delilah is ready. She'll flee,
but want to be caught. We'll see the stallion pursue her. Then
I'll hold my love while we watch the stallion mount her, and
cover her, and thrust into her. I'll tell my love, while we
watch and I caress her here and here, that this is the way of
the male.
For I am male and my love is female. And the stallion's
thrust will hold the promise of my thrust. And Delilah's
acceptance will be the paradigm I will show my love. I will say
that she should be prepared to accept my thrust in the same way.
And after I have shown her that, I will pursue her until she
must show me something else. I will, for only the second time,
see the membrane which guards her entry. Which will still be
the membrane which guards our future.
With any luck whatsoever, Dafney will come late to heat as
she did last year. If not, she will come back in heat in April.
And before Dafney comes into her April heat, I will show my love
that Dafney has a membrane quite like Leslie's. If Delilah will
be an exemplar to Leslie as to behavior, Dafney will be a
representation as to her state.
When Dafney is in full heat, I will show my love something
different from an experienced mare's flirtatious running to
invite her mate's pursuit. I'll show her the serious maiden
flight of a new mare from the stallion who holds more fear than
hope for her. But there is only so much room in the corral,
after all, and that stallion will desire the pleasures which he
has previously experienced much more than Dafney will fear the
totally unknown. He'll end her flight. He'll corner her.
He'll nip her flank, and -- never having tolerated that before
-- she'll stand still while he does. I'll hold my love while
Dafney quivers. Then the stallion will rise up and mount her,
while her quiverings double at the startling weight.
I'll watch that mounting and imagine my own, which will be
much closer in time by then. I'll think of the girl in my arms,
and picture her in my arms again but without the impediments.
I'll see the thrust of the stallion and let it suggest my own.
I'll harden and press that hardness against my love only a few
inches from where that hardness belongs.
And I'll remind my love that Dafney stands where she will
soon lie and tell her that her flight will avail no more than
Dafney's. And I will hug my love so tight in my arms while the
stallion thrusts home. And I will let that prefigure my thrust,
nearer and nearer in our future.
And we will watch as the stallion's thrust breaks through
Dafney's membrane. I will hold my love as she sees a mare being
filled by a stallion which is indifferent to the mare's wishes.
We will watch the mare's fear and uncertainty tremble under his
weight, and certainty, and lust. And I will wonder how much
fear and uncertainty my love has, whatever her protestations;
but I will look forward to the time that I approach my love with
certainty, and an overpowering lust, and even weight. But I
will restrain that lust while we watch the horses as tightly as
I restrain the body of my beloved. I will hold her tight from
the time of the loosing of the stallion until the mating of the
beasts is quite done.
When the horses are done, fully done, I will show my love
that Dafney is now completely open; but I'll show her very
carefully, since Dafney will not be in a mood to be touched back
there.
And, when Leslie has seen all that, I'll take her back to the
house. There, flee as she might wish too, I'll catch her and
strip her. I'll touch her membrane, the membrane which protects
her inwardness and our liberty.
Then, and only then, I'll stroke her for the first time where
she has admitted that she strokes herself. And I will pursue
her response to those strokes until I'm quite satisfied that I
have caught something which is as quicksilver and precious as
the girl herself. I will hold her and stroke her, and I won't
let her go until I'm convinced that I have found her deepest
secret and evoked her most fierce response.
He pulled her hood back to kiss the side of her neck, not
sucking hard enough to leave evidence. Licking, however, was
safe. Teased by his tongue, she writhed in his embrace. He
abruptly let her go when he saw a car he didn't recognize pull
into the drive a quarter mile away. "Go to the barn," he said.
Officially, she was visiting the horses, not visiting him.
Before she got there, the car had backed out and gone off the
other way.
He could run her down when he needed to, but age often walks
when youth runs. By the time he reached the barn, she was
currying Daphne. The mare didn't need it, but she always seemed
to enjoy it. "Look how large she's grown," he said. Leslie,
though nearly 16 hands tall herself, had to stretch to reach the
back of the Morgan who was two hands shorter. Of course,
Lelie's height wasn't measured at her shoulder.
"But she's still so young."
"Yep. But old enough by any horse-breeder's standards. She
came into heat last year, as you well know. Do you think the
age rules are too lenient?"
Leslie might enjoy being trapped in his arms. She clearly
wasn't about to walk into that trap, though. She
wouldn't have been the quicksilver mind he loved if she had.
"On my seventeenth birthday, though, you'll give me the gift
that I want?"
"Not quite on your birthday, dearest," he said, "but
for your birthday. There are a few preparations you will have
done before our celebration. But, as you are in charge of those
preparations, you will control the timeline after your birthday.
Before you come to visit me on that special day, you will have
done a lot by yourself."
In the month before your birthday, you will have
practiced teasing yourself every night, playing with your lovely
nipples and your magic button. You will have learned to hold
yourself at the edge until the anticipation has grown to pain.
You will have selected a fine-looking brassiere and pair of
panties, both white, and put them in the bottom of your
underwear drawer wrapped around a floral sachet. You will have
made an appointment with a gynecologist, preferably Dr.
Jameson.
You will have seen her as soon after your birthday as
possible. You will have asked to have a quite thorough
examination, including the state of your hymen. You will have
learned from her what methods she would recommend to stretch
that precious membrane so that your first intercourse would not
hurt. And you will have followed that advice, especially if she
will have offered to cut it for you.
Whether it is cut or stretched, you will have allowed days
for the soreness to dissipate. You will have warned me on
Friday, and prepared yourself that night.
In that preparation, you will have teased yourself
unmercifully in bed that evening, playing with your nipples
pretending that it is my hands on you. You will have continued
that play with both hands above your waist until your breasts
are too sensitive for even your touch. Then you will have
stroked and tickled your thighs until your newly-opened tunnel
is running. You will have put a finger within that tunnel,
pretending that it is my finger. (Which requires a good
imagination, considering the difference in size, oh well.)
You will have stretched yourself until a second, and then a
third finger fits. You will have pretended that the three
fingers are my organ invading you. You will have moved them in
and out of your tunnel in imitation and anticipation of my
strokes within you. When you have played these games for no
less than ninety minutes, you will have taken yourself to the
only peak of the evening. You will have tried to make that
climax as intense and long-lasting as you are able to produce
for yourself. Then you will have gone to sleep.
The next morning, you will have taken a tub bath, not a
shower. It will have been as hot as you could stand it in that
weather and flavored with bath salts. In the bath, you will
have stretched yourself again, and brought yourself to the edge
of ecstasy. But you'll have risen from the bath still excited,
not sated. You will have pampered yourself with warm towels and
dressed in the scented underwear. You will have put a good
dress over the underwear. You'll have dressed for the weather
and walked out to the road a little after eleven.
Once on the road, however, you'll have run to my house,
fleeing your home and your girlhood as rapidly as you fled me in
the field just now. And much more decisively. And you'll have
arrived at my doorstep panting and breathless and
overheated.
And the warmth and the exertion will have surrounded you with
the aroma clinging to you from the bath salts, and clinging to
your underwear from the sachet. Most of the aroma surrounding
you, however, will have been generated by your exertion and your
excitement. The aroma of an aroused Leslie.
Dafney whickered and nudged Leslie with her nose. Leslie
was standing there with the currycomb in her hand, but she was
watching Rick and totally ignoring the young Morgan. When Leslie
didn't respond, Dafney let a couple of horseturds drop and drank
from the bucket in front of her stall.
Leslie let herself out of the stall and latched the gate.
"You didn't get to the good part," she said. She opened her
jacket to hug him, and she gave him a wet kiss. When he
straightened, he could feel her hard nipples press into his
belly through her bra and shirt; his erection strained upwards
towards the valley between her breasts. She pressed her soft
belly against it.
"I thought the parts so far were good."
"Then the best part," she said. "The part where you get to
use this." She rolled against him from side to side, rubbing
across his arousal.
"Because," she continued, all this preparation has a
purpose...."
When I get there, you'll open the door, and invite me in.
You'll take my raincoat and smell all that floral stuff as I
loosen it. Maybe you will be able to smell my excitement. And
it will excite you, imperturbable Rick will finally want
something, too.
But, wanting it and getting it is not the same thing, as you
have taught me so well. While you hang her coat up, your little
Leslie will catch her breath. And brute speed isn't enough
inside a house; agility counts, too.
So, you will want little Leslie in her Sunday dress, little
Leslie looking so innocent. But you'll have to catch her to
have her. Leslie will slip away from you in her slip while you
hang that dress up. And, if you think that I look desirable in
that dress, wait until you see the slip that comes with it.
Looking chaste while I'm chased... (It's your own fault.)
Looking chaste while she's chased, your Leslie will slip away in
her white slip. It is white and innocent and girlish, but being
girlish it wasn't designed to hide the hips and breasts that
Leslie has developed since that slip was purchased. So, if you
try hard enough, you will catch me in that slip and buy it for
a kiss. But you will need to provide a kiss that is worth that
garment.
And you will hang up the slip, over a chair if nowhere else.
And your Leslie, not being quite yours yet, will flee again, and
hide again. And, not knowing where, you will have to search all
the rooms upstairs. Will you find her in a closet? Will you
find her hiding behind a door? Will you find her hiding under a
bed?
You won't know until you search. And when you find her, if
you find her, you will get to remove more garments; not her bra,
not her panties, but her shoes and stockings. For you won't
find your little Leslie wearing socks like the little girl you
will still think she is. And you won't see her playing tag in
her pantyhose, for that is asking for a run. You'll have to
take the pantyhose off.
And, when you do that, you'll see those panties you want your
little Leslie to wear. Not slinky black for a sexy woman, but
virginal white for a little girl. And you can't really expect a
little girl to take them off for you, can you? So, while you
will see them, while you will be able to smell the sweet flower
odor from the sachet -- maybe. And maybe it will be overpowered
by another odor by that time, an odor that will spoil your
illusion that Leslie is a little girl.
While you will see them, you won't remove them then. After
you straighten out the pantyhose, it will be time to search for
a girl who has fled again. You'll remember how nice it is that
you live in an old farmhouse with so many bedrooms on the second
floor. And you'll search in the closets, and you'll search
behind the doors, and you'll search under the beds, and --
remembering that she is now barefoot and might get chilled by
the floors -- you'll search within the beds.
And when you have found your Leslie, you'll see that she is
dressed all in white like an innocent little girl, or, at least,
how you think an innocent little girl should dress. And you
will realize, a little late, that having your wicked ways with
an innocent little girl would be even more wicked. So you will
remove that bra, and will see that your Leslie isn't so little
anymore, especially in the parts that the bra was hiding. And
you will kiss your grown-up love, kiss her until she is
satisfied with the kiss. Then you will kiss the parts that you
have revealed, the breasts that show her maturity.
And when you have kissed everywhere that you have kissed up
until then, your Leslie will flee one last time. You will find
her easily though. Because, dressed as she will be, undressed
as she will be, the only place to hide will be in a bed; and the
only bed for her to hide will be your great big one. There, in
the bed, you will kiss her mouth and kiss her breasts. While
you are doing that, you'll remove your own clothes. When you
are more naked than she, you will let her see you as you have
seen her.
You will let her kiss you as you have kissed her. You will
feel her kisses on every part of your body. Then you will
return those kisses until Leslie is gasping in anticipation.
You will remove the white panties which are the next-to-last
protection of her virginity, and the last symbol of your weird
illusion that she -- who is really old enough to bear a child --
is a child herself.
Then you will kiss the last unkissed place on her body. You
will use the skill you claim until Leslie is truly yours, out of
her mind with lust.
Then, then finally, you will do your duty. You will drive
that precious organ of yours, which Leslie may not even see up
until that day, into her. You will open the way in a manner
which neither the doctor nor Leslie herself can open it. And
you will fill her until she holds all of you in herself.
Then you will drive into her and out of her until she screams
from the pleasure. And you will feel a greater pleasure
yourself and fill her with your seed. And you will rest in her
arms and holding a woman in your arms. The pleasure will make
you cry.
When you have rested enough, you will fill her again with
your cock, until you fill her again with your seed.
The joy in your heart and loins will be tinged by only one
regret. You'll realize that you could have been doing precisely
that for the previous six months.
"Do you really think that I'm being selfish?" he asked.
"Am I planning what will be a crucial and unrepeatable event in
your life to please only myself?"
"We can't repeat it?"
"Silly! You know what I mean. It's our first time, but it's
also your first time and not mine. Do I really come off
as designing it to please some petty kink of mine?
"Well, you keep treating me as some baby. I keep throwing
myself at you, and you keep ducking. You can't be so worried
about a silly law; you've broken others in your life."
"And so I have," he admitted, "and so I shall. That's part of
the reason. I always tell myself that the reason that I break
laws is to show that the law is wrong. When you take that tack,
obeying the law becomes morally important. And this law is
right."
"It isn't right for me!"
"No. It isn't. But you've seen the sign on the road past the
grade school? It tries to slow traffic to 30 miles per
hour."
"Yeah." She sounded wary.
"Well, is that the proper speed to guarantee safety when your
father is driving? He isn't as good as he was when he raced, but
he still has lightning reactions. And is it the proper speed for
his Uncle Shelton? I get scared walking beside the road when
he's driving past."
"Uncle Shelton doesn't speed."
"No. But he's still an accident waiting to happen. But the
speed limit is for both of them. The same thing is true of us.
You're mature for your age, and not only the bulges which make
you so proud...."
"My age!" she said. "Most girls my age have been sexually
mature for years."
"And half of them don't have the intellectual or emotional
maturity to handle it. You do, but the law isn't made for
Leslie; it's made for girls. And the law in New York State says
that a girl's consent isn't valid until she's passed her
seventeenth birthday. I don't think that this law is wrong; I'm
not about to challenge it publicly. So I don't want to sneak
around it. And, quite honestly, I don't want to be caught
sneaking around it.
"Anyway, it's not as if our feelings are going to go away. We
are mature, and that means that we can control ourselves
for four months. And that means that we can reconsider our
plans until they satisfy both of us.
"So," he continued, "what is wrong with wearing virginal gear
for the last day of your virginity? What is wrong with my
thinking that the woman I love is a maiden intended for me,
rather than a whore looking for a customer? What is wrong with
dressing the part that, in actual fact, comports with your
reality?"
"I just want to feel sexy, so I want to look sexy."
"You do look sexy. Even dressed like this, you look sexy.
I'm not really under any illusions about the size of your
breasts, you know." He turned her in his arms so he could
confirm the size with his hands. She pressed back against his
hardness while his fingers teased her nipples.
"You know," he continued, "when women past a certain age spend
an hour every morning over their makeup, they have a goal in
mind. They want to look like they aren't wearing any cosmetics.
But they want to look like you do without any makeup, not
like they do. Seems to me that girls your age are screaming,
'Look-at-me; I'm wearing makeup.' Not that I would question
your decisions about cosmetics for yourself when you go to
school events."
"Yeah. Right."
"But the very desire to look grown-up displays an immaturity.
Although, as I said, it's a good idea to follow the styles of
your peers. This underwear thing, though, is just for the two of
us. And I am not obsessing over your youth. I'm not
chasing young girls, I'm chasing Leslie. The last time I felt
this lustful over a sixteen-year-old was when I was fourteen.
And, my dear, evoking lust from a man of twenty-eight is a much
greater accomplishment than evoking it from a boy of
fourteen."
"Yeah," she said in her most teasing tone. "I should remember
that you're over the hill. Maybe I shouldn't plan on repeating
sex on our first day. Maybe I should allow you a week to
recover."
"Now, sweetheart, I'm old, but I'm not that old yet. Leslie
has a lot of time before her lover can only get it up weakly
weekly. And before that she'll be experienced enough to know
that men and women can satisfy each other even when their needs
are on different schedules. Long before that time..."
Instead of standing around a barn frightened of every car
that drives past, Leslie will have become accustomed to lying
beside Rick in the same bed all night. Her only fears will have
been of odd sounds in the night. These old frame farmhouses
groan and squeak in ways that the new tract houses don't. She
will have found that she could wake Rick to look for intruders,
and she will have finally learned to ignore those noises.
She will have learned that lying beside Rick has other
comforts as well, while it won't have been half so active
a pleasure as lying on top of Rick or even lying under him.
She'll have been held in his arms while they both go to sleep.
She'll have lain there while they talk quietly, and while they
trade kisses and hugs and gentle petting. Sometimes they will
have gone to sleep after that, and sometimes his kisses and
caresses will have excited her until she can't stand the tension,
and then the tension will have doubled. He'll have led her over
the edge again and again.
Sometimes, after that, he will have entered her, and possessed
her, and taken her up the mountain again, and followed her
explosion with his own. Sometimes, though, a restful cuddle and
a quiet sleep will have followed her culmination. So, long
before Leslie will have any reason to worry about Rick's lust
fading to a once-a-week affair, she'll have learned that Rick
desires her pleasure as much as he desires his own. She'll have
understood that Rick's desire can incite hers, but needn't
circumscribe it.
And she'll have had the opportunity, but never the
requirement, to find whether she enjoys Rick's desire when it
exceeds her own. Sometimes, at least, she'll have been tempted
to play with Rick's erection, taking it into her hand when she
didn't want it in her vagina. Curiosity, if nothing else, will
have led her to watch while she brings him to tension, and
culmination. And then she'll have learned how messy Rick can be
when she takes him in hand.
"And what if I want it in my mouth, instead?" she asked.
He felt his loins lurch at that question. He suspected that she
had intended that reaction.
"That can also be arranged. What you want in the way of
eroticism for the two of us will always be able to be arranged.
Because we'll be free, and the law won't be able to intrude."
"The law won't, but my parents will."
"All too true," he admitted. "Which is why we'll have to keep
a low profile for a while longer. But what threatens us after
you turn seventeen is a scandal. I don't want your senior
year marred by that; I do want your parents' presence, if
not their full enthusiasm, at our wedding."
"And who said that I would marry you?"
"You did, actually. But go ahead and play hard-to-get. I
pursued you in the field this noon, and I'll pursue you again and
again...."
For Rick will continue to pursue his love and chase his
love and court his love, however often she flees. And he'll find
that time is on his side.
First, she'll blow out seventeen candles; and his pursuit will
become legal. Then he'll be able to entice her as well as simply
chasing her. He'll find ways to make Leslie enjoy being caught,
ways that are even more fun than being petted or kissed.
Then she'll graduate a year later, and his pursuit will become
overt. He'll still entice her with pleasures that nobody else
should know that they share, but he'll also be able to attract
her with lures which the community can see. Baubles like an
engagement ring, posies not from his field but from a flower
shop, many are the apples that Rick will drop before his
Atalanta. But, then, it won't be a single race. He'll expect
his ring on her finger to slow Leslie's flights, weighing her
down with the burden of her acceptance. And he'll scheme to add
a second ring to that. Then we'll see where Leslie can flee to,
once she is wed. In the depth of winter, he'll be able to catch
her by merely rolling over in bed.
Then, their bodies almost the only sources of heat in the
bedroom two flights above the laboring furnace, he'll search for
her under the down comforter. Blind in the night, he'll grope
until his hands find a warmth. Then he'll breathe on that warmth
as one does a spark. When it catches fire, he'll delve within
the center of the warmth until he finds the heat which is its
source. He'll add his friction until that heat strikes fire, and
until that fire is matched by his own. Then, as the fires fade
to embers, he'll hold his love tight to keep them warm.
But, even then, he'll understand that possession is transient.
Even then, he'll know that the thaw is coming.
First when the weather begins to warm, when the mares are
mated again, Rick and Leslie will go together like responsible
stock owners, and watch their mares being bred. And from the
hayloft, those responsible owners will watch the stallion drive
into the mare. No one in the whole world will guess that those
watchers are imitating the horses. No one will have the
slightest suspicion that when Leslie leans out the window of the
hayloft dressed in a decent shirt, Rick will be behind her. He
will nuzzle her and stroke her when the stallion pursues the
mare; when the stallion nips the mare, Rick will nip Leslie.
But, perhaps, he will only use his lips since he'll be in a much
more delicate place. He will press against her when the stallion
rises above the mare, and he will thrust into Leslie at the very
moment that the stallion drives into the mare.
Unlike the stallion, however, Rick will have the use of hands.
He will clasp every bit of his love, under the shirt and along
her neck, on her hips and between her legs. Unlike the
stallion, Rick will not be content with his Leslie's
acquiescence. With both hands, he will seek her excitement, and
then her passion. He will drive into her while she is warm and
open to him, but he won't stroke within her until she is
quivering in anticipation and matching his strokes. He will
stroke her inside and out until he has caught her passion and
then her culmination.
Only then, while she is clutching him within herself, will he
drive mindlessly in and out of her clasping tunnel until his
passion captures him, and then pours out into her.
When spring turns so hot that even the mornings are warm, in
those warm mornings, before he needs to be at work or she needs
to be at her college classes, she'll be free to flee him again.
If she runs across their fields, he'll have no choice but
pursuit. Then he'll have to catch her and tickle her until she
falls down.
Holding her on the ground, he'll need to stop her mouth with
his until she hasn't the breath to escape. He'll have to capture
every bit of her, holding every inch of her surface with his
hands -- and then with his mouth. He'll need to spread her legs
so wide she couldn't run, and interpose his own to keep them
apart. He'll find a rivet to bind her to the ground, and then
he'll just drive that rivet into her and drive it into her while
she writhes there on the ground. Then he'll fill her with
another weight beyond the rings, emptying the fluid which will
weigh him down more and more fully as he glimpses her bewitching
butt flick before him in her run across the dark fields.
Finally, pinned in her center, filled with his ballast, and held
by his weight, she'll lie quiet while he rests on top of her
until the rising sun threatens to reveal them to their
neighbors.
And when the summer really arrives, when the sun owns the sky
and the nights are the shortest, he will entice her out to the
fields at the time of the late sunset. There, they will watch
while the sun sinks slowly. And, Rick will try to kiss Leslie to
a glow matching the glow of the sky. Then his desire will rise
as the sunset glow sinks, and he will catch her up, and strive
with her, and lay her down, and dig within her, until he has
captured her spirit and filled her with his own.
And then winter will come back around, and Rick will trap
Leslie once again between her hot spouse and their cold room.
"So, you see, dearest," Rick continued in a calmer voice,
"I don't fear having to pursue you and woo you. I look forward
to it."
"A very riveting description," she said. He groaned. "It's
really your fault, you know. I thought that they were called
screws."
"The difference between a lit'ry metaphor and a trite
vulgarity," he said. "Besides, the motion is more in-and-out
than around in circles."
"I'm not sure that I understand. Perhaps you could
demonstrate."
"All in good time, dearest. All in good time."
"You keep saying that." She was pouting, but the grin came
through. They had a kiss before he turned her so that her hips
were pressed against his thigh, her head rested under his chin,
and her breast was in his hand.
"But time is what we have, dearest. Time is what you bring to
this partnership. Time and freshness and beauty. But the
freshness and beauty are mostly for my enjoyment; time is your
dowry for us. Your youth limits us, and threatens us if
we reveal our love. But your youth allows us such a long
future."
"For children, you mean?"
"For children... for everything."
"I'm not sure that I want to wait for everything," she said,
"or even for children. Babies are so cuddly. But, I'll admit,
I'm not ready to be at the beck and call of anyone right now --
however cuddly."
"That's the gift that your youth brings," he said. "We want
so much, lots of it incompatible. We can have so much of it,
just not at the same time. We'll have cuddly babies, and
squalling brats, and teenagers for us to worry about, just as
your parents worry about you. For that matter, we'll worry about
a boy as my parents worried about me. But we won't have them all
at the same time. And, with the time that your youth gives us,
we'll have other things first."
"And, that way, I get to hold these lovely, firm, breasts; and
you get the larger breasts you keep wishing you had. For that
will come with children. But, first, we'll have a time for
ourselves. After the world lets us be two together, we'll have
some time to enjoy our twoness before we add a third. By
then...."
Rick and Leslie will have learned to be a family. You can
learn from others how to build a house out of bricks, because
those others are using bricks identical to yours. You can't
learn from them how to build a home out of two people, because
the people who have done that have used materials different from
yours.
And that applies, to a lesser extent, to the making of a
sexual couple. Oh, Rick has some experience with women, and he
has some books that tell him the general rules. But he will have
spent a lot of time and attention learning just what makes
Leslie tick. And, more to the point, what makes Leslie
gasp, or moan, or scream.
He'll have explored her body very carefully, seeing which
parts react to his fingers, which to his lips, and which to his
tongue. And he'll have tried a few other caresses as well, and
combinations of caresses. He'll have enjoyed himself physically,
never doubt that; but he'll have enjoyed the finer, longer-
lasting pleasure which comes from experiencing the passion of
one's beloved.
And Leslie will have experienced the intensity of physical joy
that can only come when one's attention to the sensations is not
distracted by having to provide the frictions oneself. And
she'll have experienced the subtler pleasures of knowing that
one's pleasure is also pleasure for one's lover, the doubling of
joy that comes from knowing that this joy, in and of itself,
causes joy in another.
Orgasm is a wonderful country to visit, but she will have
found that returning from there is far better when it is truly
coming home. She will have come home into the arms of one who
loves her, and will have enjoyed that far more than she enjoyed
coming back to a lonely bed.
Leslie will have done some exploring of her own. She'll find
out what Rick especially likes to have her touch, she'll have
found that Rick's cock can stand quite a bit more pressure than
one would think at first, and his balls quite a bit less. She'll
have found which hugs Rick finds comforting after a long day
designing parts by CAD, and which hugs arouse him to immediate
desire for intercourse. But that exploration will have been only
the beginning.
They will have sought the times and moods that each of them
bring to love play. They will have each learned the effect of
the clock and the calendar on the other and on them both.
Rick will have learned to use hands and tongue and phallus to
bring Leslie to an immediate explosion. Leslie will have learned
that bringing Rick to an explosion is no terribly great
accomplishment.
They will have experimented with long sessions, teasing,
tasting. Rick will have held Leslie in his arms while kissing
her face, neck, shoulders, back. He will have spent an hour
bringing her to warmth and desire before his kisses will have
strayed to her mouth, let alone to her breasts. He will have
feasted on those breasts until his Leslie tells him that the
stimulation has passed from pleasure into pain. He will have
played with her inner folds until she tenses with her desire, and
will have petted her down to a warm glow again. He will have
repeated that until she burns from the fire of her lust.
Then, only then, will he have brought her over. And his
tongue will have continued the stimulation until she lies quite
replete.
They will have tested Leslie that way time and again, until
Leslie will have decided, and told Rick, whether she prefers such
love to be followed by sleep in his arms or quiet, slow, sweet
intercourse. For, by that time, she will have experienced many
examples of each.
Or, just perhaps, she will have decided that she prefers Rick
to follow such a slow seduction with an instant virtual rape.
More than once, Rick will have spread her legs as soon as she
falls back in her repletion and pressed her into the mattress
with his weight. Having thrust his cock deep within her, he'll
have grasped her hips and pulled her against him as he drives in
and out until he, too will have exploded. He'll have poured his
lust and his love and his seed into her and rested on her until
they both will have had time to recover.
Perhaps Leslie will have chosen one of those as her preferred
ending; perhaps she will have decided that each option fits a
particular mood.
Leslie will have held Rick in her arms. She'll have held him
more intimately, as well. She'll have lain down, and stood up
too, while he thrusts into her. She'll have fitted herself
around him as she squatted above his supine form, impaling
herself on the one verticality standing out from all that
horizontality.
There, she will have controlled the action. It won't have
been merely that Rick will have wanted to please her and will
have conformed his actions to her responses. In these times,
Leslie will have been in direct control. She will have rubbed
her soft mortar around Rick's stiff pestle until he, she, or both
are ground to a powder of passion.
She'll have experienced their love as a partnership in the
long run. But each of them will have reigned at one time or
another.
She will have searched for an intimacy much gentler, but even
more erotic. Rick will have held her in his arms, much like this
but without the clothes. But she will have held him much more
intimately yet. And he will have moved his hardness through her
softness only enough to keep that hardness. And they will have
talked and petted that way for hours. From that Leslie will have
learned, learned in a way that words cannot teach, that she is
Rick's and that Rick is hers.
And the same faint motions, the same long hugs, while she lies
on Rick and holds him inside her, will have taught her that the
union of their organs is the center and symbol of the union of
their lives. They won't have merely come together to ease their
desires, although they'll have done that many times. They will
have come together to express that they are indeed one,
permanently.
And Leslie will have sat on his lap and taken him inside her.
She will have held him in her arms and been held in his both at
the same time. There, neither will have controlled their
motions. Joined and jointly, they will have mutually sought
their mutual pleasure. Nor is Leslie the only one who will have
learned from that. Rick's mind and body will finally have
learned what his heart told him soon after they met. He'll
finally accept that Leslie is the other part of him, that part
that can't be severed from him by anything but death.
"Which," she said, "will probably come from starvation
before any of this takes place." He looked at his watch; it was
nearly two. Leslie might eat like a bird, but she preferred to
do so regularly.
"I had spaghetti last night," he said. "Want me to heat it up
for us?"
"How you can eat the same stuff for dinner and the next day's
lunch...."
He decided not to mention his breakfast. She also had a
prejudice against cold spaghetti. He went to start the warming
while she said goodbye to the mares. All his stock were female
except for Daphne's colt and Delilah's yearling.
"Well, dearest," he said when she came in, "you can cook for
the family when we are a family. You can choose the menus and
see that we never eat the same meal twice in a month. Though how
you will deal with vegetables, let alone leftovers, I can't
imagine." He sliced some lettuce from the head for each of them.
"There are left-over limas as well." Damn! He should have
warmed them, too.
"I should have paid more attention in Home Ec. I can tell
you're not a strong believer in balanced meals. Anyway, I'll
pass on the lima beans."
They had a nice kiss before sitting down to the meal. Not
that he hadn't enjoyed kissing her in her coat, but she was
definitely sexier when he could feel her shape.
While they ate, she told about the homework that she had done
the previous night and that morning. This had become something
of a ritual for them. In the three years between the death of
his parents and the beginning of her sharing his Saturday
lunches, he had grown unused to talking during meals, and it gave
her one more motivation for doing a big chunk of her homework
before coming over to visit. He didn't want these Saturdays to
drag her grades down, partly because her learning was important
to him, mostly because her parents were quite likely to tell her
that she couldn't go see Rick's horses until her grades
improved.
Besides that, the schoolwork which she found "boooooring" was
the only part of her non-erotic life which he found of any
interest at all. The spats and reconciliations that decorated
her friendships were too petty to interest even so dedicated a
partisan as himself. He tried to pay attention to the
distinctions she made in styles, but it was an area in which he
was too ignorant to learn. He divided the clothes worn by girls
into concealing and revealing, a classification he wasn't stupid
enough to share with her, especially since he preferred her in
the concealing and her classmates in the revealing mode.
The spaghetti was much depleted when he put it away. After
dessert, they settled down in the back parlor for a nice snuggle.
Half an hour into kissing her, he broke to lick her ear. She
wiggled away.
She went off for a pit stop. "Now, be nice," she said. "No
tickling or I won't sit on your lap."
He shifted chairs and crossed his heart. When he did cuddle
her, he found that she wasn't wearing a bra. Holding a sweet,
firm breast in his hand, he felt himself hardening against her.
The nipple was poking out, too. This was fun, but he didn't want
to go much further today. They had four months to go.
As they kissed, he felt his resolve weaken. Time for a
distraction. "You know, I can't handle many more mares than the
ones I have now if I'm going to keep putting in forty-nine hours
a week doing CAD."
"I'll help."
"Well, you help already. Any more time with Daffodil before
you live here is going to cut into your time with Rick. You
might not mind...."
"Oh yes I would."
"But I certainly would. On the other hand the future is open,
so long as we don't cut it off ourselves."
"Somehow," she said, "when I think of our future
together, the first thing that I think about isn't how we
can increase your remuda."
"Well, that isn't the first thing which pops into my mind,
either. Except for acquiring a particular filly."
"Can't see why," she said. "You don't want to ride her."
"Leg gone to sleep?"
"No. Why?"
"Because if your thigh weren't asleep, you'd know that I
want to ride that filly. It's just that riding her too
soon causes problems which might prevent my riding her for a long
time. You know enough about the ways of horses to see that.
Look at what they do to thoroughbreds."
"I wouldn't have that problem," she said.
"You'd have others. We'd have others. You don't risk the
long term for the short term -- not when you can see the long
term clearly. Leslie and Rick have such a marvelous future, if
they can reach it...."
From the beginning, Leslie will run the household, except
for repairs. She'll learn on the job, but she'll already know
more than Rick, to damn with faint praise. In the beginning,
Rick'll run everything else. He's done all of that already, the
finances, the horses, the time schedule. They'll care for the
horses in the morning. He'll go off to sit at a computer all
day; she'll go off to college classes. When they get home,
though, it will be time to take care of themselves.
As Leslie learns more at SUNY, as running the household
changes from an adventure to a rut, she'll take over more control
of other areas. Maybe the business side of the horses second,
maybe the family finances.
The first area in which she'll exercise more power, however,
will be the bedroom. Because they will start off with Rick
knowing a hell of a lot more about sex than Leslie will, but they
will work hard to increase her experience.
When day is done, with their chores finished, they will lie in
bed together, and Rick will pet his love until her desire warms
her completely. Then he will move above her and inside her and
she will welcome him with hugging arms and open legs. He will
stroke within her until they both catch fire; and then he will
pour out enough liquid to put that fire out. Afterwards they
will cuddle together in their joint warmth, going to sleep in the
glow of their love.
When evening mucking-out is done, they will feel the need for
a shower before bed. And when, in the interests of efficiency,
they take that shower together, they will find all sorts of ways
to help each other. Leslie will scrub Rick's back, and he will
scrub hers but will be more interested in scrubbing her front.
And when both of them are clean all over, when each has dried the
other, they will tumble into bed without patience for the long
preparation. Their hands will be everywhere on the other until
Leslie spreads her legs wide to accommodate Rick and he pounds
her into the mattress until they both explode.
Not that they need get the bedclothes wet. When they are
playing together in the shower, Leslie will sometimes want Rick
then and there. She will merely turn her back and pull his cock
into her cunt. Then Rick will bend his knees to enter her, and
drive in her until he erupts. The water, if it isn't freezing by
then, will make cleaning up much easier.
But nobody but the horses will be holding them to a schedule.
When they both get home after their hectic days, they won't need
to wait for bedtime. Besides, the house won't really be their
home as a couple until they have initiated each room.
The kitchen counter is a nice height; Leslie will be able to
sit on it and lean back while Rick drives into her again and
again, tells her of his love, and ejaculates proof of that love.
That, too, will be easier to clean up than the sheets. And
whenever Leslie cooks there afterwards, she will remember how she
felt with Rick inside her. She will remember, too, what Rick
said and did, if not quite how he felt. His groans as he comes
into her will be enough to hint how desirable and sexy he finds
her.
Of course, there is no law restricting them to one time or one
way in a single room. The sofa will suggest a bed so strongly
that they will be tempted to use it as such, but this chair will
suggest another posture. The front parlor will be a challenge.
They will strive for the first pleasure that has been enjoyed in
that room since Great Grandfather Wilcox was laid out there and
his enemies came to the wake.
Rick will, however, rise to that challenge. Leslie will
engulf his erection while he sits in this very chair. That done,
Rick will be able to stand and carry her impaled into the
stuffiness next door. Leaning back from him against the wall,
she can thrust herself forward to meet his thrusts until they
spend and collapse.
And there will be all those rooms upstairs with beds. They
will find some of those beds high enough that Leslie will kneel
on them while Rick will stand on the floor and pierce her from
behind.
You don't roll around on a feather bed, so Leslie will sink
into one while Rick will sink into her. Slowly, lingeringly, he
will move in her while petting her everywhere. They will have
time to climb that mountain together. When they fall off, they
will land on feathers and rest there for a night.
All of this, all the sneaking into fields in the dark and,
will be fun in and of itself. The purpose, however, is
informative. At first, Rick will say, "let's try this."
Soon, Leslie will say, "I really feel like doing that." When
they know each other better, she often won't say one word.
Instead she will think of some posture, some place, some tempo,
that they have done before. She will think to herself that this
is what she wants on that particular day. And she will entice
Rick into that place or that pace. Rick will be very easy to
entice. Perhaps Leslie will even think up positions before Rick
does.
And so, when Leslie has her degree and they can see their way
free to support a child, when they know each other and their
patterns, they will choose a solemn time to discard their
precautions. They will kiss longer and play less than they did
in the past. Leslie will lie on her back, whatever their
preferences on other days. Rick will ensure that Leslie is at
the height of her desire before he enters her, and she will
stimulate him as well. Then, stroking boldly in his love until
he explodes, Rick will plant a seed that will bloom in Leslie.
And they will lie quietly after the planting is done to allow the
seed all the time it needs to take root. And they will repeat
that until Leslie conceives.
When she is well and truly with child, Leslie will have
different hormones raging inside her than the ones which do now.
But she will know a hundred shades of intimacy with Rick already.
She will have discussed them and chosen among them. So, as her
desires change, she will have a palette from which she can select
what she wants most on any particular day.
And, as their children grow, and their marriage grows, they
will always have the palette. What they want, not only what
Leslie wants but what Rick wants, will change over time. They
will, however, have a variety from which to select.
And select they will, so long as they both shall live.
"You make it sound nice," Leslie said. "I'll consider
marrying you after all."
"That's good news, dearest." He fondled her breast with his
right hand and hugged her more tightly with his left. She
cuddled under his chin. He lowered his voice to accommodate that
closeness. "Do you want to help a little more with the horses?
You'll have to leave in an hour."
"Hold me for a few minutes more. I don't think that I can
wait four months."
"We'll make it," he assured her. "We'll help each other."
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